


Don't leave me hanging

by I_bite_my_thumb_at_thee



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Geralt needs a hug, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Self-Esteem Issues, M/M, Whumptober 2020, can be read as platonic, hurt/ comfort, prompt 1: Hanging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:28:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26755810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_bite_my_thumb_at_thee/pseuds/I_bite_my_thumb_at_thee
Summary: For the Whumptober prompt "Hanging"Geralt hands Jaskier over to a baron who had set a reward for the bard. Geralt is not prepared to find out that the baron will have Jaskier hanged.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 18
Kudos: 209
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Don't leave me hanging

_“You know I trust you, Geralt. I need you to trust me too.”_

Jaskier’s words echoed in Geralt’s mind, a hollow mockery, as he watched the guards drag the bard away. Jaskier didn’t turn around to look at him. How could he not look Geralt in the eyes while he was doing the unforgivable? 

A hand patted Geralt’s shoulder. He tensed, but didn’t look up. He didn’t need to, to know that it was the baron who had set the reward on Jaskier’s head. Geralt’s eyes were burning into Jaskier’s back, until he was swallowed by the castle gate. 

“You have my thanks,” the baron’s voice shook him out of his thoughts.

“You have nothing to thank me for,” Geralt pressed through clenched teeth. “I didn’t do it to earn your gratitude.”

“And yet you shall have it.” At Geralt’s scowl, the baron added “But of course you will also get the promised reward.”

Geralt let himself be guided through the castle. If he had been with him, next to him, Jaskier surely would made had some remarks about the tasteless decorating. But as it was, Jaskier was stumbling in front of him, being pushed and dragged by the guards. No snarky comments left him, only pained grunts when the guards pushed him too harshly.

“Tell me,” the baron said in a tone as if they were having a pleasant afternoon tea and not discussing a man’s fate. “How were you so quick to betray the bard? I was under the impression he was your friend.”

The words stung, but Geralt kept all emotion out of his voice as he said “Your impression was wrong. We aren’t friends.”

For a split second, Geralt thought that he saw Jaskier wince. Geralt looked away. 

The baron’s chuckle sent an unpleasant feeling creeping up Geralt’s spine. “No, I suppose, you aren’t.” 

They came to a halt in a grant hall. The weight of the gold the baron pressed into Geralt’s hand with a smile felt heavier than anything he had ever carried. This was blood money. Payed for with Jaskier’s freedom. 

“What is going to happen to the bard now?”

A muscle in Geralt’s jaw twitched. He shouldn’t have asked. It was foolish and yet every fibre of his being screamed at him that he needed to know. 

“He will be brought to justice, of course.” Again that chuckle. “I cannot have people try to break into my castle. I will make an example of him. At dusk, he will hang.” 

A stone dropped in Geralt’s chest. Dusk was less than an hour away. Without him wanting to, his eyes darted over to Jaskier. The bard’s shoulders were tense, but he stared at the ground with determination. 

“Hanged? So soon?” the words escaped him, before he had time to think better of it. 

“The hangman is already preparing one execution for today. Some girl who thought she could get away with insulting the way I govern. It would be a waste of time and effort to have two separate hangings.”

For a few painful heartbeats, the baron was quiet, looking at Jaskier with squinted eyes, contemplating.

“But you do have a point,” he said finally and Geralt released a shaky breath. “The main punishment is waiting for the execution and he won’t have much of that. I suppose I’ll have to find a different way to make the most of his punishment. Guards!” 

Geralt watched with horror, as the guards pushed Jaskier to his knees at a gesture of the baron. Every punch that made Jaskier groan, every kick that made him contort in pain; Geralt watched them, frozen in place. The sounds of pain Jaskier made his blood boil. He clenched his fists. 

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Jaskier’s pained outcries sounded too similar to how he had sounded years ago, in that cave with the elves. Back then Jaskier had trusted Geralt to do something to stop the pain. No such trust did he have now. Throughout all the pain he received, Jaskier didn’t look at him. Not once. Not as he was crying out, begging the guards to stop, all while knowing that they wouldn’t grant him that mercy until the baron told them to. 

Geralt didn’t even notice that he had moved forward, until Jaskier finally lifted eyes, wide and pleading. 

“Geralt, please.”. 

Geralt stopped dead. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t. But he had to. Jaskier’s words danced in his mind, mocking him, screaming at him _You know I trust you, Geralt._

He didn’t hear the baron give the command to take the prisoner away. He didn’t listen as the baron once again thanked him for his service and left to do his own business, trusting Geralt to find his way out. His ears were still ringing with Jaskier’s cries, the pleading look in his eyes seared into his mind. 

Geralt started to slowly walk towards the exit, waiting until he was sure the baron and his men had well and truly left, before he strayed from his path. With every window he passed on his way, his heart clenched further. It was only minutes until dusk. How long had the guards beaten Jaskier, while Geralt had just stood there, unmoving? It had felt like an eternity. It had been far too long. The minutes were passing by. Every second the sun got closer to meeting the horizon was a second Jaskier was closer to meeting his demise and Geralt was still rushing through the corridors, not knowing where to go and wasting precious time by avoiding guards. 

His steps faltered abruptly. Was that-? He rushed in the direction he had heard the faint melody from. With every step he took, the louder he got; the closer he got to Jaskier. The haunting words send a shiver down his spine. 

“Are you, are you  
Coming to the tree  
Wear a necklace of rope  
Side by side with me.” 

The singing faltered, as Geralt got close enough that the echo of his footsteps reached Jaskier. 

Geralt rounded a corner and there he was. Jaskier. Beaten and with new formed bruises on his face, flinching away from the bars that separated him from freedom, as soon as Geralt came into view. 

Geralt’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of the discolouring on Jaskier’s face and the dried blood on his nose. 

“Jaskier, it’s me,” he said in a hushed voice. 

For a terrifying moment there was no answer. Of course there wouldn’t be. He had been the one who got Jaskier in this situation. He had stood by and watched him get brutalised. Telling Jaskier that it was him would not make the bard any less terrified. _You know I trust you, Geralt._

Then the moment of agonising doubt passed. Jaskier came closer, a smile on his face so brilliant that it was almost blinding. It was a smile Geralt had not expected to see again. Not so soon. Not after what he did. 

Jaskier reached out for him through the bars and Geralt took his hand without hesitation, held it close and prayed that Jaskier didn’t notice the trembling. 

“It worked, Geralt. She is here.” 

It took all of Geralt’s willpower to look away from that endless blue and instead look at the other person in the cell. The reason why Jaskier had tried to break in. The reason he had talked Geralt into letting him get captured. 

“Priscilla, this is Geralt, the one I told you about.” There was a softness to Jaskier’s voice that ignited something deep inside Geralt’s chest. “Geralt, meet my sister.”

“We don’t have time for introductions,” Geralt grunted with a quick look over his shoulder. “Stand back.” 

Immediately, Jaskier grabbed the woman and dragged her into the far corner of the cell, shielding her with his body. 

A quick Aard and the door to the cell flew open, ripping parts of the wall with it. 

Even after they had made it out of the castle, they didn’t stop running. The two bards looked like they were near exhaustion, but Geralt wouldn’t let them stop until he was sure they were safe. 

When they finally stopped, the bards immediately sank to the ground. Ice spread through Geralt’s chest as Jaskier’s gingerly touched his bruised cheek. 

Geralt shouldn’t have agreed to this stupid plan. He should have never let Jaskier get hurt. He should have found another way to free Jaskier’s sister, one that didn’t put Jaskier in danger. 

His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. Everything in him longed to go to Jaskier, to comfort him, to hold him in his arms and tell him that it would be alright, that he was safe now. But how could he assure Jaskier that he was safe, when it was Geralt who had put him in danger in the first place?

A pointed cough ripped him out of his spiralling thoughts. With a frown he looked at the girl who nodded her head in Jaskier’s direction, unmistakably telling him to go to Jaskier. 

Geralt swallowed against the lump that was forming in his throat. Carefully, so as not to startle Jaskier, he touched the bard’s shoulder. 

“I am so sorry, Jaskier. I’m sorry.” The words didn’t come out right. They sounded choked and they weren’t enough to convey what he truly meant. 

When Jaskier lifted his head to look at him, Geralt’s breath caught in his throat. He tried to prepare himself for the inevitable, though he knew he could never be prepared for a life without Jaskier. Any moment now, he would see the burning hatred for what Geralt had done. Any moment now, Jaskier would tell him to leave and never come back and Geralt would do it. He would do it, because if this was what Jaskier wanted then Geralt would not stay with him and hurt him even more with his presence than he already had. 

Instead what he found in Jaskier’s eyes was confusion. 

“Sorry?,” Jaskier let out a shaky laugh. “Geralt, you have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I let them hurt you. I-“

“I told you to do that. I was the one who came up with the idea. Nothing that happened in there was your fault.”

Geralt averted his eyes, unable to face the sincerity in Jaskier’s face.

“Hey, look at me.” Cool fingers found his chin and tilted his face upwards, until he could no longer avoid Jaskier’s eyes. “You helped me save my sister. And you got me out of there, as I knew you would.” His eyes softened impossibly. “I told you, I know I can always trust you, Geralt.”


End file.
